


This Dying Music

by m3aculpa



Series: Dead Boy's Poem [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, M/M, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con References, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-26
Updated: 2011-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-24 01:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m3aculpa/pseuds/m3aculpa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The twelve steps of regaining a life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Dying Music

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** This Dying Music  
>  **Fandom:** Glee **  
> Rating:** R  
>  **Characters/Pairings:** Kurt, Rachel, OC, slight appearances from Burt, Santana, Brittany and Jesse, mentions of Rachel/Kurt, Kurt/OC and Jesse/Kurt  
>  **Warnings:** Mentions of sexual assualt, victim-blaming  
>  **Word count:** 3049  
>  **Summary** : Sequel to _[Come, walk within my garden](http://m3aculpa.livejournal.com/9038.html)_. The twelve steps of regaining a life.  
> 

**I**

  
Kurt stayed curled up on the floor for what felt like an eternity. School was out, so no students were coming to have class. Nobody would stumble upon him and his shame. He bit through his bottom lip and tried to contain his tears and failed. They slipped silently down his cheek.  
   
He hurt. It wasn’t all physical, even if his head was throbbing and his… he couldn’t bear to finish that thought. It was mainly emotional. Betrayal, shame, indignation, disgust… he’d _come_. He felt sick. She’d made him come. Did that mean that some part of him had enjoyed it?  
   
No. No, because it didn’t _happen_. Sure that he didn’t like Rachel, but she wouldn’t do that. It couldn’t have happened.  
   
He ignored his body screaming in protest and pushed himself up. Reluctantly he touched himself _there_. The blood was dry, that was good, right? At least he wasn’t bleeding anymore.  
   
He scrambled to pull on clothes against skin that felt too raw. Too exposed. He grabbed his bag she’d abandoned in the room and headed for the car. He looked the Navigator once he was inside and tried to convince himself that it wasn’t because he felt unsafe. And maybe he drove a little too fast, a little too recklessly, but he wasn’t pulled over so it couldn’t have been that bad. He barely said ‘hi’ to his dad, before going down to his basement.  
   
He showered until the scorching water became cold.  
   
It didn’t _happen_.  
   


 **II**

He tried to act as normally as possible and go on with his life. It wasn’t like he went out of his way to avoid Rachel; they never really interacted before. He continued to get a B average and attended Glee, but always sat in the back and as far away from Rachel as possible. He tried not to think about why.  
   
The first couple of nights was fine, but then came the nightmares. He could live with those nightmares. It was just a replay of what had already happened. Not that it had happened. He had lived through it once, he could manage to live through it in his dreams. If he started to avoid going to sleep and slept as little as possible, he didn’t notice. He noticed how hard it was to concentrate in class. He also noticed how hard he flinched when Rachel accidentally brushed against him. He tried to convince himself that he was not hiding from Rachel in the boys’ bathroom. For the record: he wasn’t shaking. It was just in his mind.  
   
He was so busy trying to convince himself that he was cooping, that he failed to notice that he was distancing himself from everyone else. They noticed that he was withdrawn, tired and not eating properly, but was unsure how to breach the subject.  
   
It only got worse after The Nightmare. Up until this point, they had been stuck upon repeat of what had happened. This time it was changed. He was in the choir room and it seemed like a regular practice. But then suddenly he was in the middle of the room and his clothes were gone. Puck and Finn were holding him down and Rachel was behind him. She shoved into him and the dildo was huge, splitting him apart. The others were egging her own, encouraging her to go faster, harder, deeper. _Fuck that ass until it’s sore_. He was sure that it was Mercedes who was chanting that.  
   
He quit Glee the morning after. Mr Schue thought it had to do with the lack of solos and tried to get him to stay by promising him a solo with a killer high note.  
   
“There are other things to life than Glee club and solos, Mr Schue,” he told him and left.  
   


 **III**

It didn’t take long for Rachel to corner him after he quit. She tried to grab his arm, but it only made him spin around and back away from her. He hated how fast his heart beat in his chest. The rapid tattoo made him feel faint. His mouth was dry and tasted horribly of fear.  
   
She drew back her hand and looked wounded. It almost made him laugh in disbelief. Why would she look wounded? What right did she have? She’d done this to him; reduced him to this. She’d made him feel so unsafe that he had to leave the one thing that had made him happy during school hours.  
   
“Kurt, this is selfish of you,” she said and stuck her jaw out stubbornly. “We need you for Regionals. Without you we won’t be allowed to enter the competition! Stop this… childishness and come back right this instance.”  
   
She tried to touch him again and he slapped the hand away in panic.  
   
“Don’t touch me!” he snarled and looked around.  
   
They were alone in the hallway and he hated how unsafe it made him feel.  
   
“What’s the matter with you?” she said and had the gall to sound indignant, while holding her hand.  
   
He lost it. His voice went higher and shriller than even he thought possible.  
   
“Excuse _me_?! What’s the matter with me?” He looked at her in disbelief. “What the _fuck_ is the matter with you, miss Berry?!”  
   
“Really, Kurt, there’s no need for such uncouth language…”  
   
“You _fucking_ raped me!” he snapped. “I’ll be how uncouth as I want to. Seriously, you act as if you’ve done nothing wrong. I can’t even look at you without…”  
   
He silenced abruptly. Her face was twisted into an ugly grimace that made him want to take a step back. He almost did. He wished she wasn’t blocking his exit. He’d never seen her look this cruel and… _evil_. He shuddered. His heart tried to escape his chest; it was beating too fast.  
   
“You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself,” she said cruelly.  
   
He recoiled as if slapped.  
   
“Fuck you,” he said in an angry whisper. “Find yourself another member, I’m not coming back. And if you come within ten feet of me, I will kill you, girl or not.”  
   
“Fine,” she said and stormed off in another diva fit.  
   
He waited until she was gone, before running to the nearest bathroom to vomit.  
   


 **IV**

He realised that he needed to talk to somebody. It was eating him up and poisoning him. He hardly ever slept a full night and the nightmares were getting worse, more vivid and horrifying. But he had precious few that would listen.  
   
He couldn’t talk to his dad. He was still learning to deal with Kurt’s sexuality… this he wouldn’t understand. Rachel Berry was, what, five foot two? She was _tiny_. His dad could probably not understand how she could have raped him. Guys didn’t get raped by girls. There was a reason why he hadn’t reported it. Who would believe him? There was no evidence. The cuffs had left rug burns after them and the blood could be explained by rough play. This was Lima, Ohio, and they all would think that he was kinky because he was gay and that it had been consensual. Because guys, even gay guys, didn’t get raped by girls.  
   
But a girl had raped him.  
   
He could probably talk to Mercedes. But things were strained between them since he left New Directions. Rachel might also have poisoned them all against him. Mercedes probably would take his side, in that case, but he wasn’t sure that she would believe him in this.  
   
In the end he called the Trevor Project. He figured that they might help him. It also helped that he wouldn’t have to be face to face with the person he was confessing to; he wouldn’t be able to see the disbelief and mockery. The voice on the receiving line was low and smooth, like dark chocolate. It made Kurt feel slightly better.  
   
“ _Hello?_ ” the voice said.  
   
“Hi,” he whispered and curled up around his pillow in bed.  
   
He didn’t say anything else and the seconds ticked away.  
   
“ _My name is Mark_ ,” the voice said kindly. “ _What’s your name_?”  
   
“Kurt,” he whispered and hoped that his dad wouldn’t come home. “I… uhm…”  
   
He suddenly had trouble breathing. Mark must have heard the gasping for breath, because he very soothingly said,  
   
“ _Deep breaths, Kurt. We’re in no hurry_. _We’ll take it as slow as you’d like. I can guess what you want to talk about; just tell me if I’m right. Is it because you think you might be gay?_ ”  
   
“No,” Kurt laughed rather wetly, “I’m sure I am and I’ve come out to my friends and family.”  
   
“ _Is it bullying, then? People giving you a hard time?_ ”  
   
“There’s plenty of bullying,” he said dryly before his voice dropped lower. “But that’s not why I’m calling. I… I was… I was r-raped.”  
   
Mark was silent for so long that he had to add, “Hello? Are you there?”  
   
“ _Yes, I’m still here_ , _Kurt,_ ” Mark said and sounded really sad. “ _I’m sorry that you had to go through that, Kurt. Did you report him?_ ”  
   
“No,” he said. “You are the first person I’ve told. And it wasn’t a guy.” He bit his lip. “It was a girl.”  
   
“ _A girl_?”  
   
He couldn’t help it: he sobbed. Mark sounded disbelieving. Would he tell him now that boys didn’t get raped by girls and that he was a dirty liar?  
   
“ _Hey, hey, Kurt, easy_ ,” the man soothed. “ _Please, don’t cry. Or cry if it makes you feel better._ ”  
   
He sniffled. “You believe me?”  
   
“ _I believe you. Is that why you haven’t told anyone – because you’re afraid that they won’t believe you?_ ”  
   
“They wouldn’t,” Kurt said and sniffled again. “She’s _tiny_. I shouldn’t have let her do that to me!”  
   
“ _You didn’t let her do anything to you._ ” He must have made a disbelieving sound, because Mark sounded sterner. “ _No, Kurt, you didn’t let her do anything. She did things to you against your will._ ”  
   
“I came,” he whispered in anguish and tears slipped down his face. “That must have meant that I wanted it on some levels.”  
   
“ _Physiological responses,_ ” Mark said with his soothing voice. “ _The truth is that the human body can be made to feel pleasure against its will – it doesn’t matter if you are a man or a woman. Rapists use these **involuntary** physiological responses to gain more power over their victim._”  
   
“I get that. On a logical level. But I still feel…”  
   
“ _… like you could have prevented it? I don’t know what I can say, Kurt. I can tell you it wasn’t your fault, but you’ll have to believe me. I want to talk to you, but I also want you to get some professional help. Is there anyone you can talk to? A guidance counsellor or something?_ ”  
   
Kurt thought of miss Pillsbury and shuddered.  
   
“No. I just needed to talk. Or I would have exploded.” He absent-mindedly tugged at his pillow case. “I don’t want to talk about what really happened. It’s just.. good to have it out there.”  
   
“ _That you’re not alone?_ ” There was a smile in Mark’s voice. “ _Let’s just talk then. Do you like music, man?_ ”  
   
Kurt smiled wanly.  
   
“You have no idea,” he said.  
   


 **V**

He drifted apart from his friends in New Directions. It really turned out to be that in the end all that connected them, glued them together, was the music and the dance. Even Finn Hudson seemed to diminish until he couldn’t understand the thrall the boy had held over him. He and Rachel walked hand in hand through the corridors. It made Kurt sick to see it.  
   
He briefly considered warning Finn. But he probably wouldn’t believe him. And Finn was a big boy; he could probably handle himself. Incapacitating a quarter back was probably more difficult than… He shuddered.  
   
He threw himself into the Cheerios. The burn of his muscles felt very rewarding and made him feel generally better about himself. The exhaustion made him drop off into dreamless sleep.  
   
It led to him growing closer to Quinn, who was reinstated after the summer, and Santana. He joined in when they started to badmouth Rachel. His comments were the most cutting and vicious. They made Brittany frown slightly.  
   
“Why are you so sad?” she asked one afternoon and hit the head of the nail.  
   
“I’m not sad, Brit. Promise.”  
   
Santana would ignore Brittany and laugh at his comments, joining their pinkies together. But if she noticed that he never dared to say anything to Rachel’s face, she didn’t comment.  
   


 **VI**

He spoke with Mark on the phone for about a year, before Mark finally convinced him to see a psychologist. Maybe convinced was the wrong word. It just felt like he was ready to talk about it now with a professional.  
   
They didn’t talk at all about the rape during their first session. She just wanted to get to know him better before they handled the heavy stuff. They talked about fashion, in which he complimented her on her classic, minimalistic sense of style; music; books etcetera. In the end he found himself relaxing in her company and forgetting why he was there.  
   
Eventually when they started talking about it, he couldn’t get past the moment he came to with his hands cuffed to the radiator. He broke down and she had to spend the rest of the session trying to calm him down. He was shaking when he left.  
   
Getting the story out of him, was like squeezing blood from a stone. He had a very fractured recollection of it, due to his concussion. But he managed to get it all out. Afterward he curled up in the armchair she had him sit in and made a sound like a wounded animal. They didn’t speak more that session. Instead she put on a CD with the Wicked Soundtrack and he sang quietly along to Defying Gravity.  
   
The kid gloves came off: she started working on him to get back his life. The first thing she had him do was to try to reclaim his sexuality. He hadn’t masturbated at all since Rachel assaulted him. His psychologist encouraged him to take his time. Go to bed early and just try to touch himself. Not necessarily to get an orgasm. Just enough to make him feel like his body was his own.  
   
It took him months, nearly a year, to be able to come without feeling too dirty. It felt like a private victory.  
   
She also tried to get him used to having women come up behind him, without him freaking out too badly. That was much easier for him. But nothing could make him stand the brand of perfume Rachel had worn or the scent of synthetic cherry (the lube). A whiff of either scent made him run for something to hurl into.  
   
It would take years, but slowly he felt himself getting back together.  
   


 **VII**

The hardest part of his recovery process, as the psychologist called it, was to tell his father that he’d been raped. His father had looked disbelieving, before crushing him to his chest. He’d been under the assumption that the counselling was for the bullying. It took him off guard to find out that Kurt was getting counselling for being raped.  
   
Kurt was relieved that his father believed him and melted into the hug.  
   


 **VIII**

Mark quit his job on the Trevor Project and they decided to meet up. Mark came down to Lima and looked utterly out of place. He was pale and skinny. Rather short too. If you didn’t count the wild, backcombed hair that had been dyed turquoise. His eyes were smudged with cool and he wore lipstick. He had a piercing in his eyebrow and in his lip.  
   
He wasn’t Kurt’s type: he was too short and too skinny. His hair was too unnatural and he’d never liked piercings.  
   
But when Mark’s voice washed over him, the sound of smooth dark chocolate, and he took his hand, Kurt thought that he might be in love.  
   


 **IX**

The first time he had sex with a guy, wasn’t their first attempt. Mark had been subject to many freak-outs and flashbacks. It had left them both shaken. They’d consulted Kurt’s psychologist, whose only advice was for them to let it take the time it took.  
   
The first time he had sex with a guy, he was on his back. His hands were unrestrained and he could touch Mark just as much as he wanted. Mark slowed and stopped when asked. Mark touched him softly and gently and always looking him straight into the eye.  
   
Kurt came so hard that he blacked out for a moment. When he came to, his first dazed thought was: This. This is what it should have been like.  
   


 **X**

Mark and he didn’t last long. Their relationship was based too much on need from Kurt’s part and he’d never considered dating Mark if he didn’t associate him with safety. Mark realised this. They parted amicably.  
   
Mark introduced him to his soul mate, Jesse St. James.  
   


 **XI**

The nightmares never really went away. But over the years they became less frequent until they were an unusual occurrence.  
   


 **XII**

When Kurt was thirty, a letter arrived to the New York apartment he and Jesse had lived in for the last two years. He was establishing himself in marketing and Jesse was successful on Broadway. There had been no sound of a Miss Rachel Berry. It seemed like she’d abandoned the path of stardom.  
   
But the letter was from her and Kurt was exceptionally reluctant to open it. He did and read it once, before tossing it in the trash. She was very apologetic and ashamed. She wanted him to know that it wasn’t his fault; that she’d done wrong. She’d acted out of spite and the horrible things she’d said to him was to try to blame him, so that she hadn’t been forced to admit guilt to the crime she had committed.  
   
It was fourteen years too late.  
   
It also had very little to do with him. She was just trying to get rid off the guilt and make herself feel better.  
   
He turned his back on her letter and moved on with his life, step after painstaking step. 


End file.
